Stairway To Heaven
by Azara-Rayne18
Summary: Karofsky hears about how Sue got to coach Aural Intensity. If she can push someone down the stairs and take his job, then why can't he push someone down the stairs and take his boyfriend? Dave shoves Blaine down the very staircase where he met Kurt.
1. Chapter 1

People thought Dave Karofsky was stupid. Dave knew that. He also knew that they were full of crap. He used to get straight A's, back before Jewfro posted Hudson's report card on his blog and suddenly failing was the thing to do. No, he was actually pretty smart, he thought as he pulled up in front of the entrance to Dalton Academy. How else could he have come up with a plan like this?

It had started with his weekly perusal of Ben Israel's blog. That scary cheer coach, Miss Sylvester, had become the director of that other glee club. Normally, it wouldn't have been such a big deal, except according to Jewfro, she'd pushed the other director down the stairs.

Normally, it wasn't something Dave would have thought of doing in a million years. Yeah, he slushied the losers from time to time, roughed them up a bit, but that was something Puckerman and Hudson had started. Dave paused for a moment, fighting the resentment. Puckerman and Hudson, the golden boys who got to ruin his life and then prance off to their glee club, leaving him to be the bad guy, the screw up. Hudson got everything.

He even got Hummel to follow him around like he was some kind of god. If Dave got Hummel to look at him like that, no disgust, no hatred in those pretty blue eyes… well, he wouldn't leave him hanging while he chased after Berry, that's for sure.

Dave wasn't stupid. He knew that Hummel hated him, even knew why, to a degree. But he was also sure that anything could be accomplished if you went about it the right way. Wasn't that what the Beiste and Schuester were going on about all the time? He could do anything, if he put his mind to it? The only problem was that he didn't know what to put his mind to. Until he read Jewfro's blog.

Miss Sylvester pushed one guy down the stairs. A quick shove, a little tumbling, the guy was only in the hospital for a month or so. And Miss Sylvester got his job, and reclaimed her spot as the school's top badass all in one day.

Normally, it wasn't something Dave would ever do. But ever since Hummel came back to Mckinley, his rep had been falling faster than Fabray had dropped that baby weight. Not to mention the way that Hummel looked at him. Like he was stupid. Like he was disgusting. Every time he saw that look, Dave could swear that his heart was snapped in two. And if one little shove could make all of that go away…

He was a little afraid that they wouldn't let him in the school. He didn't have one of those uniforms after all. But no one stopped him as he made his way into the common room. He wasn't in his letterman jacket for once, opting to dress in his dad's dress slacks and a button up shirt instead. He felt oddly naked and out of place as he made his way up the main staircase. He winced as the hard marble clacked against the soles of his dress shoes. That was going to hurt. And this was a big staircase. By the top Dave had decided to find another spot.

Of course, that was the moment Anderson walked past him in the hall.

They were in a group of three, Anderson's olive skin a contrast to the black guy and Asian kid that flanked him on either side. They were like a uniformed poster for ethnic acceptance. Anderson didn't notice him, he was deep in conversation with the dark skinned boy to his left. The Asian kid on his right noticed him, though, a sort of politely puzzled look on his face as he walked past. Dave instantly shuffled to the side, casting his eyes to the floor and crossing his arms over his chest, praying that the kid didn't say anything to him. He breathed a sigh of relief as they went passed him, heading for the staircase.

Here it was. Now or never.

Dave began walking toward them, wincing again as he saw that staircase, a great, long thing with polished marble steps. It would be just like a locker shove, he decided. Anderson couldn't be that badly hurt. A broken arm, maybe, like the one Dave got from playing hockey freshman year. Maybe a concussion. He would be in the hospital for a few weeks, tops, and by that time, the rumors would have solidified, and Dave would be king of the school, undisputed. He would take Anderson's boyfriend, just like Miss Sylvester had taken that guys job. Jewfro would write about him in his blog, and people would comment, saying stuff like, 'last time I mess with Dave Karofsky' and 'that's hilarious'.

Kurt would talk about him with that shine in his perfect eyes, he would kiss him like he kissed Anderson that one time the boy came to visit Mckinley. One shove, and all of the bad feelings, all of the problems would go away. It would be just like a locker shove, just the same…

Still, Dave hesitated. It wasn't until the Asian boy turned around again, saw him, and opened his mouth to talk that Dave was forced into action.

"Hey, Anderson!" He yelled. He saw the boy turn, saw his dark eyes widen in recognition and maybe a little fear as he saw Dave storming up to him. Anderson took a step back, wobbling slightly as he accidently stepped over the edge of the first step.

Dave walked right up to him and shoved him as hard as he could.

The next few moments were a blur. Dave watched as the Asian boy stared, his eyes wide with horror, he grabbed at the black boy, throwing him back as he lunged for his friend.

"Blaine!"

Anderson only screamed once, a companion to the snap of his wrist breaking against the marble. The next instant, he tumbled down and there was another sickening crack! when his head hit the step. The entire common room was silent, apart from the thuds and cracks of Anderson's limp body hitting the marble steps. Then he finally hit the ground, crumpling in a heap at the bottom of the staircase.

It wasn't hilarious at all.

The Asian boy continued to stare at him. There was a sudden scream from one of the boys, and Dave began running down the staircase.

His heart nearly stopped when he slipped halfway down the staircase, grabbing at the railing with one hand. A sick rush of terror hit him – was that how Anderson had felt? – and he looked down to see what he had slipped on. His stomach raced into his throat at the sight of the blood covering the step.

He ran past the group that had already gathered around Anderson's unmoving body.

"Is he breathing?"

"Somebody call an ambulance!"

"Don't touch him, his neck might be broken…"

"Blaine? Blaine, can you hear me? Blaine, wake up…"

"His ears are bleeding…"

"Blaine! Blaine!" The black kid's voice again; Dave glanced back to see him hitting his knees on the floor beside his friend. "Oh…" The kid moaned, tears sliding down his face. "Somebody call 9-11! He needs help, please! Blaine, come on, listen to me…"

Dave couldn't breathe.

He reached his car, was fumbling with his keys when the pain exploded in the back of his skull. He spun around to see a boy with dark hair, his dark eyes wild as he swung at him again.

"You could have killed him!" The boy screamed, more tears trailing down his face. The Asian boy ran towards them, Dave flinched thinking he was going to hit him too. But he didn't.

"Thad, that's not going to solve anything. We need to get help for Blaine right now, come on!" The Asian boy wasn't crying, but there was a horrible, blank look to his eyes as he grabbed Thad and began leading him away.

Dave was in his car and driving before anyone else could stop him. He drove home, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest and the way his shoe squelched when it sunk down on the gas pedal. He tried to ignore the fact that he was getting Anderson's blood into the carpet of his car. He tried to ignore the image in his mind, the image of Blaine's body lying limp on the common room floor, the puddle of blood around his head spreading across the white marble.

Dave tried to ignore the fact that it wasn't like a locker shove at all. It wasn't heroic, it wasn't badass, and it certainly wasn't funny. But it had done its job. One little shove, some quick tumbling, and Dave's life was going to magically work out again. Wasn't it?

Suddenly, Dave Karofsky didn't feel very smart after all.


	2. My Fault

Wes still hadn't cried.

It was odd, there were so many times today it would have been warranted. When Blaine screamed in pain as his wrist snapped. When he hit the bottom of the staircase and the wet thud of his head hitting marble sounded for the third time. When the paramedics came and lifted his blood soaked body, their faces pinched with pity while Blaine's was unnervingly blank.

Honestly, Wes wasn't sure why he wasn't sobbing like a baby. It wasn't to save face in front of the others. David, who was currently resting his head on his shoulder, was still crying, fat tears that were screwing up his face on the way out of him. Thad was quietly whimpering in the corner, and Jeff was sobbing openly, clinging to his own forearms. There were a few boys who hadn't cried either, but they were all staring at the wall with shocked, blank expressions.

And none of them were as close to Blaine as he and David were.

"I don't understand," Nick said for the fifth time, "His ears were bleeding. That's really bad, isn't it? How are the doctors gonna fix that?"

"They're going to drill a hole into his skull, I think. Release the pressure." Said another boy, a pudgy freshman whose name Wes couldn't remember.

The hospital had given the Dalton boys a small waiting room to the side of the ER ward. There were about 20 of them in all, most of them Warblers. Wes tried not to look at them, especially at David, with his face twisted in pain and his slacks still covered in blood from knee to ankle. He stared at the small poster tacked to the wall across from him without really seeing it.

"Who was that kid who pushed him?" David asked, his jaw tickling Wes' shoulder as he spoke.

"I don't know," Thad said darkly, "But I want his head on a stick."

"Why would anyone do that to Blaine?" Jeff hugged his knees, a few more tears leaking out.

"This is my fault," Wes said.

It was quiet, but every boy in the room turned to stare at him anyway.

"Wes… come on, man… don't say that," Thad said.

"It's true. I saw him, when Blaine and David and I were going to the stairs," Wes said. His chest felt too tight. "I thought there was something weird about him, but I didn't say anything because he looked so average, you know? And then I just stood there and watched him shove Blaine. I didn't even try to stop him."

"You were in shock. It's not your fault, Wes…"

"Do you think Blaine cares if I was in shock or not?" Wes snapped, "This psycho walked into our school, and I practically handed Blaine to him. I was the only one who noticed him before, I should have said something. This is my fault."

"No, Wes," David said. Another tear hit Wes' already soaked shoulder, "It's my fault. I wasn't in shock at all. Everything was so slow. I tried to grab him when he started falling, but the guy pushed me away. I was so close, too. I could have grabbed him, you guys."

"Hey, don't soak up all that guilt for yourself," Thad said humorlessly. "If I hadn't tried to beat him up, if I'd have focused, maybe I could have gotten his license plate. This sick freak is going to get away with nearly killing Blaine, all because I didn't think."

"I let him in," Jeff said. "I opened the door for him to get into the common room. If I hadn't have let him in, Blaine would have been down the stairs before he got to him."

"I don't understand," Nick said, "Why was he on those stairs? He always takes the back stairs to get to Warbler practice, why was he there today?"

"Blaine's been using every excuse he can to use that staircase for the last few weeks," David said, "He loves it because it's where he met Kurt. He was talking about Kurt when it happened, telling me about some date they went on just before…"

"Has anyone called Kurt, yet?" Thad realized. The silence in the room turned uncomfortable.

"I didn't think to," Nick confessed. "I was so worried about Blaine."

"Someone should call him," Jeff said. "He deserves to know."

"This will kill the poor kid," David said.

"I don't know," Wes said, "Should we really worry him about this? He's trying to adjust to Mckinley again, his Dad's sick. I mean, we don't even know if Blaine's going to live yet, shouldn't we wait until-"

"Don't say that!" Thad jumped up, furiously. "He's going to be fine. He has to be…"

"And even if he isn't, wouldn't you want someone to call you?" Jeff pointed out quietly.

"But who's going to call him?" David asked.

"I'll do it," Wes stood up, shakily. "Does anyone have Kurt's number in their phone?"

Jeff handed him the phone silently. Wes scrolled through the contacts, wincing when Blaine's name and picture came up on the screen. Finally, he got to Kurt's number. Jeff had taken Kurt's picture too, an image that probably would have been the standard awkward grin if Blaine hadn't swooped in at the last moment to kiss him on the cheek. Wes looked at Kurt, blushing happily as Blaine's grinning lips pressed against his cheekbone. Blaine's eyes were so alive, he was so happy… Wes wondered if he'd ever see his friend like that again. Wes took a shaky breath, pressing call as the first tear slipped down his cheek.

"You've reached the answering machine of Kurt Hummel. Congratulations. If you leave the name and number of someone I want to talk to, I will call them as soon as possible. Oh, and if you're calling to tell me I'm a fag again, my boyfriend and I already know. Anyway…." BEEP!

"Kurt," Wes started, "Kurt, I am so sorry…"


	3. Bonding

Finn was sitting next to Kurt when he checked his messages before glee that day. Normally he would be sitting next to Rachel or Quinn, but they were kind of being scary lately, yelling at him whenever they weren't yelling at each other, and he was kind of confused about how he felt about the whole thing with them to be honest. Quinn was pretty, and she was his first love and all, but she was kind of crazy lately, and Rachel was always kind of crazy, but she really cared about him, in a Rachel kind of way, and Finn was sort of missing that. Kind of.

Kurt was better with that than he was. Girls, and what they were thinking and stuff. Which was unfair, when Finn thought about it, because there were straight guys who would kill for that knowledge, and Kurt had it stored up safe inside that pretty-in-a-weird-no-homo-kind-of-way little head of his. Speaking of which, Finn had never really asked Kurt what he thought he should do.

"Hey, Ku- " He turned to his brother, and was promptly struck dumb by the expression on Kurt's face, just as Mr. Schue walked through that door.

"Okay, class," Mr. Schue began, walking over to the board and picking up a brand new piece of chalk, "The lesson today is about COURAGE." He wrote the word on the board in large, bold letters before turning to face the class. "Now, courage can be a lot of things. Who here has had an experience where they needed… Kurt? Are you okay?"

Kurt shook his head quietly. His phone was still stuck to his ear, in a stiff, unnatural way that indicated Kurt had forgotten he was holding it. Kurt's face was deathly pale, huge blue eyes lost in a sea of white. Kurt's lips were trembling, trying to form words through his shock.

"…No… I - no. No, not Blaine. Not Blaine. I'm sorry, Mr. Schue, I have to - " Kurt stood up, looking sick as he staggered through the door. The class stared after him, and, okay, Kurt was kind of a drama queen sometimes, and Finn didn't always understand him, but the last time he'd seen that look in Kurt's eyes was when his dad was in a coma. He ran after Kurt, pausing only to nod at Mr. Schue on his way out.

Kurt was in the parking lot, trying to fit his key into the door of his Navigator while making a call on his phone. "Hey, Kurt, what are you doing?" Finn yelled, but whoever was on the other line had apparently answered, because Kurt was already talking into his phone.

"Wes, please tell me this is a joke… Well, do they know if he'll… How can they not know that, it's their job to know, isn't it? I am so sick and tired of this, first my dad and now Blaine, I don't understand… They have him in surgery now? I'll be there in an hour, just let me…" Kurt ended with a frustrated scream, jabbing his key into the door and chipping the paint by the lock.

"Kurt, I'll drive." Finn stepped, forward, yanking the key out of his brother's hand and swiftly unlocking the door. "I'll drive, okay? You shouldn't be driving like this." Kurt didn't argue, running to the other side and entering the address into the GPS before Finn even got the car out of its parking spot.

"What's going on?" Finn asked, once Kurt had finished his call and Finn had sent Burt and his Mom a text saying they wouldn't be home for a while.

"It's Blaine," Kurt said. "He fell down a flight of stairs, at Dalton. Broke his wrist, cracked his head open in a couple places. He's in surgery right now, they're trying to repair the bleeding in his brain, but they don't know… they don't know if he'll make it."

Kurt was starting to hyperventilate. "I – I'm sure he'll be fine, Kurt." Finn said. He reached out, trying to put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, only to have Kurt angrily bat it away.

"You don't know that, Finn!" Kurt yelled. Finn stared at him, shocked, and Kurt's anger melted into devastation. "I'm sorry, I know I'm being difficult, but I can't lose him. He's not just my first boyfriend, he's everything to me, and I just… I don't understand. There are only a handful of people in this world I can't live without. Why are they always the ones getting hurt?"

"I don't know, Kurt," Finn said, honestly. Kurt turned away from him, staring helplessly at the road leading to Blaine as if it could take him to a time when this wasn't happening. Finn tried to think of something, anything to say that might make this better, but nothing came to him. Sometimes being an idiot really sucked.

"Thanks, Finn," Kurt said quietly, "For skipping glee like this to drive me to the hospital. I know I couldn't concentrate on the road right now."

"It's no problem," Finn said, shooting Kurt a sideways grin through the mirror.

"No, I mean it. We may have had our difficulties but… you're a good brother, Finn. I think I'd be falling apart right now if it wasn't for you."

"Thanks," Finn said. It felt good to hear that from Kurt, to feel that he and Kurt were finally bonding, however horrible the circumstances were. Eager to keep the bonding moment going, Finn said, "And I totally understand how you feel? I don't know what I'd be doing if something like this happened to Rachel."

"You're dating Quinn now," Kurt said sharply, "Finn, I would appreciate if you could keep your girlfriends straight for the next hour or so, because I really can't handle your dating issues on top of everything that's already going on right now."

Bonding moment ended.


	4. Blame

Kurt wasn't entirely sure he was breathing.

It was as if someone had reached inside of him and scooped out his insides. Heart, lungs, kidneys; they were all gone, taken away and Kurt wasn't sure who he was anymore.

He wished that whoever had stolen his insides had taken his mind as well. Then he couldn't run that moment over in his mind. Blaine tripping at the top of the stairs, Blaine's body being broken into pieces against stone. Blaine, tied down on an operating table, naked and vulnerable as the doctors tried to save him.

Kurt rushed through the hospital doors, was given heartless directions by a bored orderly, and nearly bowled over Trent on his way into the waiting room.

The warblers stared back at him. "Where is he? Is he alive?"

Wes rose to his feet, leaving David to put his head in his hands. "We don't know yet. They're still working on him."

Working on him. Like he was one of Dad's cars and not a human being with thoughts and feelings and people who loved him... Kurt staggered over to a chair and sunk into it, burying his face in his hands. A large hand came down on his back - Finn's probably.

The hospital's cold. A bit too cold for Kurt's taste, and it would probably be warmer if everything wasn't so white. Nurses and doctors in pristine whites and pale blues, flitting from room to room like ghosts. Bright overhead lights wreaked havoc on Kurt's contacts, making the edges of white jackets glow and blur. It's surreal, a moment that stretches into forever.

And then that moment ended, with the sharp clack of clean black oxfords against the tile floor, and a deep voice, "Blaine Anderson?"

Kurt expected to be the first one to answer. His mouth was half open when a man ran around him and another voice yelled, "Blaine!"

Blaine's family rushed in at exactly the right moment. A pair of men, one large and imposing, with grey eyes as cold as the hospital around him, the other warm with dark hair and brown eyes who smelled like Lima Bean coffee. A pretty woman marched between them, with a sweet, round, dark skinned face that was tight with terror. "Yes," She said, gasping between words, "Yes, we're Blaine's family. Is my baby boy okay?" Her voice was high and clear; it broke on the last word and she buried her face into the cold eyed man's shoulder.

The other man - Blaine's father - stood apart from them. He stared down the doctor with a face that refused to move.

"He's alive," The doctor said, and a dozen relieved sobs tore through the air. Kurt rose to his feet, Finn's hand the only thing keeping him up. "He sustained several injuries to the head and because of that, he's in a medically induced coma. We can take you back to see him now."

The doctor turned his back on them, the warblers collapsed back into their chairs and Kurt rushed forward. He caught onto the nearest person in Blaine's family. Warm brown eyes bored down to him, and Blaine's father said simply, "You're Kurt?" Kurt nodded, waiting for words that he was too terrified to say, but it seemed he'd chosen the right person. Blaine's father grabbed his arm and dragged him along with the family.

Blaine room wasn't nearly as surreal as the waiting room. The harsh overhead lights were traded for dim lamps; the flitting white doctors and nurses traded in for motionless family members in dark clothes.

Blaine's mother was wearing dark plum; Blaine's step-father was in a red vest. They were holding hands. Blaine's mother's cheeks darkened when she looked up and saw Kurt standing there, "What is he doing here?"

"He's-"

"I know who he is. What is he doing here?"

Kurt wanted to argue, wanted to shout down the disgust in her eyes. But it didn't feel right, yelling over Blaine's motionless body. So Kurt let Blaine's father and mother shout at each other, gearing his eyes toward his boyfriend. Much of Blaine's body was encased in white bandages, the white swelling over broken bones. Blaine's head was covered in bandages, down his forehead to above his closed eyes. But it wasn't the horrific head injuries that drew Kurt's attention. While Blaine's parent's voices rose to screams, Kurt was too involved watching a line of stitched that snaked along Blaine's cheek. It wasn't even covered by a bandage, just a line of red against his skin. How long would it take to heal? Would it scar?

"You're always doing this!" Blaine's mother yelled. Tears were beginning to stream down her face. "This is our family and you're not standing with me!"

"Our family!" Blaine's father bellowed back. "Our family! So _our family_ is you bringing your husband in here with our son while forcing Blaine's _boyfriend_ to wait outside?"

Blaine's step-father leaped forward then, grey eyes flashing, "Hey, I'm the one finding out who shoved my boy down a damn staircase while you sit around playing the wounded ex-husband. So you tell me, who's really acting like a father here?"

"Please, stop," Kurt whispered.

The three adults turned to stare at him, Blaine's father uttering a muffled, "You're right. This is about him." He glared at his ex-wife one more time before rushing over to Blaine's side, cupping the boy's face in one hand and murmuring hushed, "Blaine? Daddy's here, Blaine. Can you hear me?"s. Kurt stared after them, his mind rolling along until the pieces fell into place.

"Wait," He said, "What happened?"

"You should know what happened," Blaine's mother sniffed, "It happened because of you. No one touched Blaine before all this boy nonsense and now my baby's been hurt again..." She burst into renewed sobs, sinking into a chair with her husband's hands on her shoulders.

"Hurt? Nobody hurt Blaine. He f-fell, didn't he?"

Neither of Blaine's parents answered him, but Blaine's stepfather stared him down.

"That's not what the police said. Somebody pushed my boy down that staircase. And I'm willing to bet it had something to do with you."


End file.
